


There's blood on your face. (Beer and Nightmares)

by Idjit_01



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Nightmares, Sam Winchester is So Done, Teasing, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idjit_01/pseuds/Idjit_01
Summary: Dean wakes up pretty badly shaken from a nightmare. He struggles with it. He goes to the kitchen for a beer, but Cas and Sam are there. In the end, thanks to Cas's shenanigans, he doesn't even remember the nightmare.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	There's blood on your face. (Beer and Nightmares)

Dean isn't breathing when he wakes up. His whole body is shaking and his heart is racing as if it were one of the competitors in the Tour of France.

He doesn't notice it a first. The details of the nightmares are still clinging to him like leeches and every one of them would make him shudder if he wasn't so terrified that his muscles are petrified in their place.

When he finally takes into account that he really is awake, _that nothing of the dream is real_ , he forces a shuddering breath and notices he wasn't breathing. 

He doesn't blink. He's too afraid it will all go away and he'll be in the nightmare again if he stop looking around for a second.

Driven by hunter instinct the next thing Dean does when he's sure he's awake is check for the gun under his pillow and the blade in his bedside table. When he takes them but can't hold them he notices how violently his hands are shaking and how blurry his sight is getting.

He closes his eyes reluctantly, pressing on the metal of the blade to stay in the bunker and not slipping back into the place his mind had created.

Because his dream wasn't about monsters, or demons, or Hell, or anything he knows he can fight. His dream stems from a memory he hadn't thought about in a really long time, a memory so deep in him he couldn't have remembered if anyone asked him before he dreamt it again.

It's such a mundane dream he would be embarrassed if anyone knew how badly it affects him. He would be so embarrassed because after everything his been through he shouldn't get so scared of something so simple. Hell, even normal people wouldn't be as terrified as he still feels.

He decides he needs a beer, or five, to chase it away. Because coffee would be great to wake him up, but it wouldn't drive the still lingering feelings and thoughts that the dream has brought back with it again.

It takes Dean a while to stand up. At first his body isn't responding, his legs won't move and his hands don't grip. He forces himself to do a breathing exercise Sam taught him sometime along the way and only when he can't feel his heart pounding anymore and when his skin isn't tingling he tries again. Then he does stand up but his limbs feel so weak he falls back down. 

He's breathing hard again and when he inhales again he feels a moisture in his skin different to the cold sweat that's been covering since probably long before he woke up. He notices then two things: the stinging in his hand indicates he cut himself with the blade and he's breathing, and secondly, he's crying. 

He tries to swipe away his eyes and his cheeks and tries the breathing exercise again _so he stops crying for a goddamn minute_. One would think he's a fearful little six-year-old girl with how much he's crying.

Dean cringes with embarrassment. Only when he feels steady enough he's absolutely certain his face is dry and his limbs will hold him he stands up —and if he's still trembling and swaying a little, well, there's for no one else to know so let's hope no one's up so no one notices— and opens the door.

The brightness of the light shocks him and whites out his vision for a minute. He leans on the wall even though he isn't shaking badly anymore to take in the realness of something to touch.

When he can see again, he's still in the bunker. Relief floods through him embarrassingly fast.

Dread and relief both fill him as he gets to the kitchen. He hears voices in there and wonders how long he's been sleeping — _suffering_ — for there to be so much light and for everyone to be awake before him.

Of course the only time he sleeps over four hours it's because he's stuck in a nightmare.

Dean slows his steps as he gets there to avoid facing them but his stomach grumbles. He can barely remember the dream by now, but the icy fear it brought is still somehow flowing through his veins.

Sam is saying something when Cas turns his head and sees him. 

Dean's breath starts to quicken again and his heart starts straining against his chest again. He's terrified they can tell he's been crying; he's terrified the can tell it's taken him ages to get to the kitchen because he's been shaking and remembering and feeling so violently; he's terrified they can tell how _weak_ he is and feels.

He forces a smile into his face, though it feels more like a grimace. Cas tilts his head. Sam is laughing, who knows why. Dean isn't even sure he's noticed him yet.

He steps into the kitchen, fake bravado pouring through him and tries to makes his way to the fridge. He isn't even halfway through when Cas takes him by his wrist and he can't help but shudder at the warmth and the softness and the _realness_ of the movement. 

So, naturally, he shakes Cas's hand off. He knows he'll give everything away if he's touching him. He whines lowly when he loses the touch and hopes no one noticed. Cas's expression let's him know he didn't get away with it, but he doesn't try to touch him again or pushes him to say anything.

Sam turns around with a bitch face, noticing he's been talking alone for a while but it disappears when he gasps when he sees Dean. He comes closer to him and surveys him for injuries. He exhaled when he notices it's only his hand that's injured.

"Dude, you've got blood on your face." He says.

Dean blinks and curses himself for not noticing before and trying to clean himself with a bloodied hand.

"How are you?" Sam asks then, and Dean has to fight to suppress the eye roll the question immediately induces.

"'m fine." He answers, looking away and finally taking a beer of the fridge.

Sam sighs exasperated. He motions his head to Cas in a 'I'm done, you try' gesture and walks out.

"'Have to check on Jack." He murmurs and in a way, it really isn't a lie. Even though it's been months he's still unsteady after getting his soul back.

Dean nods and opens the beer. He's about to take a swig when his beer is replaced with a sandwich.

He sighs, pissed. 

"Really?"

Cas tilts his head.

Dean walks back to the fridge to try again, but when he takes the beer to his lips it changes into an apple.

He tries twice more and by the time he's done he's shuddering so badly he's spillng beer all over Cas, the floor and himself.

"Why? Just... Why?" He barks.

Cas takes his time. When Dean's given up and decides to go to out to buy one somewhere Cas won't follow him, Cas talks.

"Dean..." He says in a pitying voice and Dean already hates it. "You're shaking. To my understanding, alcohol will only enhance whatever's gotten you like this and sustainance can help greatly to get you back to normal."

Dean blinks. "Yeah, well... I want beer."

Cas sighs in defeat. He leans on Dean's side, provoking a shudder out of him that's nothing but pleasant and pleads gravely into his ear. "At least eat something with it... Please."

Dean blushes and nods absently.

Cas leans away and smiles. He takes Dean's hand and his skin tingles when he feels his wound healing. When he takes his hand away a sandwich's there. Cas brushed his hand with Dean's side and then leaves to his room.

"Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean breathes out.

"You've got blood on your face."

Dean's panting now, and not because of the nightmare. Honestly he doesn't even remember it anymore. He breathes put and smiles.

He opens the beer and the sandwich and, without noticing, he takes the sandwich fear.

It actually makes him feel good.

He frowns, then smiles, even though he's trying not to.

"Bastard... Angel." He curses, but he's glowing by now.

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a really bad nightmare. My sister comforted me for a bit and then I got inspired and this story was born. Writing really calmed down.
> 
> Please let me know what you think about it.
> 
> Take care of yourselves~


End file.
